


Science Fairs and Fair-Haired Boys

by beemotionpicture



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: AU, Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, M/M, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-09 08:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15263145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beemotionpicture/pseuds/beemotionpicture
Summary: Bruce and Tony meet as boys at an interstate science fair sponsored by Stark Industries. Things go from bad, to worse, to...surprisingly good, actually.





	1. Friday

A total of five people had taken a look at his exhibit, although Bruce was pretty sure at least three of them were just parents scoping out the competition. His project wasn’t as flashy as the other kids’ but that wasn’t what bothered Bruce. He wasn’t really a flashy kid, after all. No, what _bothered_ him was the $29 model of irradiated cells in flux he had created; the two $8 pieces of illustration board he had pasted his work on; the $6 handouts he had created with his local library’s typewriter that he didn’t have the confidence to give to passersby. Bruce felt infinitesimal around the other competitors.

 

Why did he ever let Jen talk him into thinking this was a good idea? It had started last year when he spent the summer at Aunt Elaine’s house in California. He had seen the print ads for the fair while out grocery shopping with his cousin, and he must’ve been looking at them for far too long because Jen had noticed. She had pestered him about it, going so far as to peel one of the fliers from a storefront, placing it on top of his pillow where he couldn’t miss it.

 

He told her he didn’t have the grades; she pointed out that he didn’t have to be affiliated with a school to enter. He said that there was no way his father would pay for it; she proudly broke her piggy bank and shoved the bills she had gotten for the last four Christmases into his hands. He said he wasn’t good enough to get in; she called bullshit on that one (in a much nicer way, of course, one appropriate for an eight-year-old). So yeah, it seemed like he was doing this.

 

He worked his ass off on that proposal, and he actually got in. Now, he was embarrassing himself in front of some of the most gifted scientific youths in the country.

 

“Nobody is going to give you the time of day with that look on your face, young man.” a voice told him. She read his name off the card on his table, “Mister...Banner.”

 

He raised his head and found himself face to face with a beautiful woman. She had kind eyes, he noted. Like his mom used to. Their similarities ended there—where Rebecca had been simple, this woman had on a fancy dress with pearls adorning her ears and neck.

 

This was the first time someone had addressed him since he got himself sorted out at the registration booth, and he was at a loss at what to say. People like her didn’t talk to boys like him. Bruce didn’t even think she was talking down at him; in fact, there was a sparkle in her eye that made it seem like she was teasing.

 

Bruce resisted the urge to bite his lip and look down. He gathered himself enough to reply to the lady. “What look, ma’am?”

 

His voice wobbled and he cursed his inability to articulate something, anything better than that. The woman didn’t miss a beat, answering him frankly and not at all like she was talking to a child.

 

“A look as though you’ve been eating sour lemons all day. Come now. Chin up, and look me in the eye.”

 

Bruce couldn’t believe that she was talking to him like this. Still, there was something in her manner that he couldn’t refuse. He did as he was told, standing up straight.

 

She smiled and a part of him ached at the familiarity. She was a mother, he was sure.

 

“Better. Now, Mr. Banner, kindly explain your work to me. I’m afraid I’m not much of a scientist but I will try my best to follow along.”

 

He furrowed his brow but stopped when she hummed disapprovingly. Sighing, he obliged.

 

“My paper discusses the appropriate application of radionuclides in the field of medicine, particularly the optimized use of (68)Ga-EDTMP in nuclear perfusion imaging,” he began slowly, watching her closely for signs of confusion. Her eyes hadn’t glazed over like he expected; instead, she nodded at him to continue. Taking a breath, he said, “Gallium-68 has been discovered to be an efficient PET radiotracer for bone scans, and what this might imply is…”

 

His explanation, more than slightly abridged, took all of five minutes. The woman had said she wasn’t a scientist, but was able to follow for the most part and asked intelligent questions. When he faltered, she encouraged him; when his words became jumbled, she waited patiently to gather himself.

 

At the end of everything she gave him some pointers on how to improve his spiel, wished him luck, and bid him goodbye. As she walked away, the crowd seemed to part for her. Someone in the distance called her name, and Bruce was left blinking at Maria Stark’s back, wondering at the surreal experience.


	2. Saturday

Day 2 at the science fair was marginally better.

 

He had spent the night before at a hotel near the convention hall, room paid for in full. Perks of attending a fair whose primary sponsor was Stark Industries, Bruce supposed. While the room was small, it was still bigger than the one he had back home. The bedsheets were slightly musty, but Bruce had the best sleep he’d had in years.

 

The purpose of the fair was to showcase different scientific principles or innovations. Bruce had been confident in his proposal at first, because even with a crude model, his paper was sound. So what if he didn’t have the best presentation? Bruce had been so sure months prior, but as he stood in front of his booth for the second day in a row, he couldn’t help but fidget with anxiety.

 

Friday had been designated mostly for ingress; Saturday was for the media and general public to look around; while Sunday was for the judges to convene and announce the winners. It seemed as though some of the competitors were regulars in the scene as a few of them were friendly towards one another. None of the other kids spoke to Bruce or even acknowledged him besides side-eyeing his project. His threadbare shirt and ratty sneakers didn’t help make himself any more inviting either, Bruce thought.

 

Bruce was stationed near one edge of the convention hall, near the entrance. He had been one of the last contestants to register yesterday, his bus having arrived later in the day. Because of this, he hadn’t necessarily had the time nor the opportunity to see the other exhibits, which Bruce was slightly nervous about.

 

Now that the fair was in full swing, the hall was busier than ever. It seemed as though there was constantly a commotion happening towards the front of the hall, near the stage, but the fair was so big that he couldn’t make out what it was.

 

Finally, when curiosity got the better of him, he left his booth to look around. He went around lunchtime so there would be less people to bump into. Making his way down the aisles, he had to admit he was a little impressed by the other exhibits. This wasn’t just some lame school science fair; this truly was a gathering of the best young scientists in the country. The more he saw, though, the more conflicted he felt. Was his paper too esoteric? The other kids had gone for more traditional projects—waste management, alternative sources of energy, and so on. Bruce wanted to kick himself. He should have done his research on the types of exhibits that had won in the past.

 

Bruce found it laughable that he had let himself think he had a chance of winning. Actually, after his entry was accepted, Bruce had thought about a lot of eventualities. He had flights of fancies about what he would do with the prize money if he won. He even imagined his father being proud of him for once in his life. But his most ridiculous hope, what scared him the most was that he entertained the notion of just never going back. The idea that he could get away with lying to his father, hopping on a bus to a different state, and entering a competition to showcase his genius and _win_ —to leave his old life behind.

 

Deep down, Bruce knew he was a coward. He knew it was nothing but a pipe dream, and that the only thing waiting for him at the end of this fair were his father’s fists.

 

He hoped it wouldn’t hurt for long.

 

As he reached the source of the commotion, he couldn’t help but stare.

 

In front of him was not a model, but a functioning prototype of a robotic arm. Bruce was not an engineer—no, his forte was more abstract—but even he could tell the fabrication was high quality. Beside the arm, wildly gesticulating to a growing crowd of onlookers was none other than Tony Stark.

 

Everyone in the country knew Stark Industries—they had a hand in practically every major technological advancement in the last century; it was impossible not to. Tony Stark had been on every news channel, every magazine at one point in time for the creation of his first circuit board at age four and then years later for building a V8 motorbike engine. So while he didn’t recognize Maria yesterday, Bruce certainly knew who this was. And even if he didn’t, he would have known ten seconds after listening to him speak. Genius like Stark was one in a million, and unlike the other kids here he had charisma and charm in spades. It was unreal, watching him.

 

Stark was saying something about the robot being a rudimentary artificial intelligence, and wasn’t that just a kick in the balls. After listening to the other boy speak for a couple of minutes, Bruce couldn’t take it anymore. Stiffly, he turned around and made his way back to his booth. His plan was to grab a sandwich or something after checking out all the exhibits, but he had lost his appetite after seeing that display. He felt like his efforts were...more than a little pointless, now. Not to mention woefully inadequate. He was tired and he just wanted today to be over, so at least he could curl up in his little hotel room and pretend Monday wasn’t coming.

 

Reaching his booth, his stomach dropped even further than he thought possible. Leaning over the model and reading his paper was, as likely as it was, Howard Stark himself. Bruce felt like his legs were made of Jell-O.

 

If Tony Stark was notorious, then his father was a legend. He was a war hero, an innovator, the genius behind Stark Industries’ success. And currently, he was reading Bruce’s paper.

 

He was far too near the booth to turn back now. Howard caught his eye—and unlike Maria’s, which were kind, and Tony’s, which shone with brilliance, Howard’s eyes were sharp. Calculating. Like he was searching for something and always found it.

 

“You there. Is this your work, young man?”

 

It was getting a little old, being addressed that way. Bruce couldn’t help but nod, anyway.

 

“You’re Bruce Banner? You wrote this paper?”

 

He was confused by the tone and the way the man looked at him. Bruce nodded again, slower this time. Thankfully, he found his voice in time to answer. “Yes sir. That’s my work.”

 

Well, duh, Bruce.

 

Luckily, Howard didn’t seem to notice how airheaded he was being. If anything, he grew sharper.

 

Bruce was so focused on answering Howard’s questions, pressing as they were, that he hadn’t noticed a crowd forming. As soon as he did, though, he supposed it must run in the family.

 

They had been talking for almost twenty minutes. When Howard finally finished his barrage of questions, Bruce wondered faintly if that was how it felt to be interrogated. Howard left with a clap on his shoulder and another sharp look, then a smile with teeth.

 

“This is brilliant work, son.” Howard Stark said. Bruce was still confused.

 

Their conversation had drawn people to his booth; some of his competitors (and their parents, Bruce noted) came over to see what the fuss was about. A few of the judges had even taken second and third looks at his work. A few of them approached Bruce, and he stiltedly answered their questions. After a while, their murmuring amongst themselves became discomfiting, so Bruce excused himself and went to get something to drink.

 

By the water cooler, Bruce crumpled the tiny paper cup in his fist, crossed his arms and pressed them tightly against his chest. The soreness grounded him and he was able to focus.

 

Everything had felt unreal, like it was happening to someone else and he was watching his body from afar. Bruce had a complicated relationship with stress—complicated in the sense that while usually it was fight or flight, he felt like he never had the option to choose the first.

 

Bruce sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall. _12:56pm._

 

It was going to be a long day.

**Author's Note:**

> I made a [Science Bros discord](https://discord.gg/yrs2ZjU), if anyone is interested in joining.


End file.
